


only you, only ever you

by swevery



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swevery/pseuds/swevery
Summary: what did it mean to be someone’s soulmate? was it that you loved someone through all the trials the galaxy sent your way? or that you always came back to one another even after it tried so hard to pull you apart? if so, peter thought, how could the lady in front of him be anything else?
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	only you, only ever you

**Author's Note:**

> tw: child abuse (physical and emotional), minor references to eating disorders, self-deprecating language

perhaps if peter nureyev had lived a different life, he would have thought his soulmate to be a superhero or a courageous crime fighter, but peter nureyev did not get a choice in which life he lived. instead, he was intimately acquainted with the reasons a kid with too busy a head and too large a mouth might walk around decorated in bruises.

at first mag had complained about them; each time peter prepared for a con by ensuring that the purples and blues didn't bleed through his carefully curated mask he’d shy away from the look of disappointment that mag gave him. but that didn’t matter. no matter how much peter strived to impress his father figure, he’d take the fleeting moments of disappointment if he got to keep those reminders that there was someone out there for him.

in a world this torn apart, this  _ ugly _ , he couldn’t help but find beauty in the concept - one day, on one planet or another, he’d find someone to love him, flaws and all. 

“it’s not a guarantee you’ll ever meet them, peter.” 

they were casing a vault that would set them up for a life’s worth of luxurious living if they were sensible. they were, of course, not going to be. while the instinct to hoard food may not have been trained out of him yet (see: the scratches peter was left with each time he twisted his hand through the loose tile behind his bed, pulling out the shoebox of non-perishables he’d ‘borrowed’ from mag’s cupboard to check it was still there) after the better half of a childhood dependent on the kindness of others and his own quick hands, he knew better than to suggest that mag adopt the same policies. they would steal whatever was inside of that vault, they would blow the money within a week and they would move on as they always did.

“you know how big the galaxy is. what are the odds of you being in the right place at the right time?” 

peter turned away, tracing a finger over the burned skin on his wrist that had appeared that morning. mag had always thought peter’s preoccupation with his soulmate was a distraction and these lines were not ones he hadn’t heard before.

“besides, you know the sorts of people we are.” mag paused, taking peter’s chin in his fingers and turning his face towards him. “you enjoy living like this.” (see: the now removed scar that had ran across his neck following a knife fight gone wrong, the bruised ribs each time an escape came too close)

“so?” 

“so even if you did meet them, who’s to say they’ll be interested in a boy on the run? people want someone who can offer them something other than baggage.” 

peter pulled his face out of mag’s grip, pretending to turn his attention back to the building across the street from them. his gaze turned stony, the words echoing around his head.

“that’s not how soulmates work,” he muttered, letting childish impulses that should have long-since been banished overtake him.

“how would you know, peter?”

“and how would you?”

peter expected there to be consequences for that, but instead mag - now settling back into his role - fell silent, save for a frustrated sigh that seemed to mark the end of the conversation.

  
  


peter spent the rest of that job with those words echoing around his head. he knew he had flaws; a body count taller than him was beginning to rack up and the guilt of each individual body had faded a long time ago, but did that really mean he’d forfeited his chance to be with his soulmate?  _ no _ , he told himself. a lot of people were bad, but they weren’t all miserable. people who had avoided his gaze in the street while his arms were clasped around himself, the cold bleeding through his thinning clothes, had walked hand in hand with lovers laughing sweetly. 

late at night when peter couldn’t sleep, his thoughts drifted to his parents. he used to beg mag to retell the story of his father’s heroism, even if it left him with a rage he was yet to deal with. he wondered if his father had met their soulmate, if he had another parent out there somewhere with a body free of marks. peter hated the thought of that. he’d grown so accustomed to sharing his skin with his soulmate that the thought of it being his own again made him want to shake his head to get rid of the thought. 

he looked down at his own hands in the dim light, his tanned skin free of any marks for the moment. there hadn’t been any since the beginning of their current con, despite his almost obsessive checking. his hand hovered over his drawer like it had so many nights, the pen inside calling to him.  _ fuck it _ , he thought. even if he had nothing to offer his soulmate, he wanted a chance to try. what was the point of this otherwise?

with shaking hands, he unclasped the lid.

_ are you okay? _

his only response was the bruises lining his neck the next morning.

* * *

decades later, with the name peter nureyev and his unwarranted fixation on a soulmate he would thankfully never meet dead and buried, rex glass found a lady with one leg hanging out of a window unnervingly far above the ground and found that his fond amusement was genuine.

juno steel was beautiful. that, he thought, was something anyone could agree on. even the monstrosity that was his tattered coat, something that would have gotten peter turned away from almost every gala he’d set his eyes on, was flattering on him. as he turned back to peter, locs falling in front of his eyes, he found himself captivated by the sight of juno’s hands, scarred and thick, brushing them back behind his ears. thankfully the character he had created allowed for rex to run his eyes over juno’s body without breaking his cover, pausing at the stretch of pale skin across his nose that felt familiar despite peter knowing he had never seen this man before. he’d worn a matching scar decades ago.

peter had given up on finding his soulmate soon after mag’s death. (see: the edge of a blade slipping over his skin as he tugged it out of his father, hands still trembling) soulmates were a childish dream that mag was right to try and train out of him, he decided. peter would never find his and even if he did, there was no room in his life for distractions. 

on nights when even his dedication to whatever cover he was invested in couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering to them, peter would have to push away the thought that he had given up on finding his soulmate long before then. the night his question had been answered with bruises made him realise that mag was right - finding his soulmate didn’t guarantee him a lifetime of happiness. after all, so far peter had only ever caused his more pain. it was safer that way, for the both of them.

that wasn’t to say that the marks had disappeared though. in fact, his soulmate seemed to be getting into more trouble that ever, graduating from backyard scraps to blasters. 

peter had inflicted his fair share too - a cover blown too early, scraped knees each time he’d made friends with the floor practising a dance native to the planet he was on, when the nights’ company turned to teeth and claws to get acquainted with him. 

it wasn’t all bad, peter told himself. he couldn’t deny the joy he felt at finally doing a con for  _ himself  _ and not the men chasing him around the galaxy so that he could go out without his well-worn binders. peter wondered if his soulmate noticed the surgical scars in the days before they would have faded for him. he wondered if they would realise how happy they made peter.

“agent glass, right?” 

peter blinked.

right. the mask of grimpoteuthis.

  
  
  


after all that peter had learned of his soulmate over the years, intimately acquainted with each mark on their body, he should have guessed that a day with juno steel would end in blood and stitches. 

he knew that juno’s gaze was trained on the long gash that had formed across both of their arms, thanks to the inventions of cecil kanagawa. he wasn’t sure if it was the shock or blood loss that stopped juno from commenting on it, but he wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. as they walked through the halls of the kanagawa mansion, juno had vehemently denied the possibility of ghosts. peter wondered if he thought the same about the possibility of a soulmate out there haunting him.

his own thoughts were an uncoordinated tangle of possibilities he had accepted weren’t going to come to fruition, but if he let himself dwell on them there was no way he’d be leaving with the mask he needed. he pushed the thoughts of those mirrored injuries, the truth of juno’s mother, his  _ brother _ , to the side until he was sure that his cover was blown. 

it was comforting to know that his soulmate would be able to give him a run for his money, even if he did refuse to run away with him. peter had cursed himself even as he suggested it, that childish hope bubbling up inside of him again as he sealed his fate with a flick of his wrist, signing the note behind his back with  _ peter nureyev _ , a name it seemed he was reviving.

“listen to me. you don’t have to do this. you know that, right?” 

his voice flowed like the drink in his hand, warm and inviting. he wished he could stay. but he had a woman to deliver a mask to and mag’s words still haunting him. he told juno as much, in a roundabout way.

“life can wait one night, juno. come here.”

  
  


when he was finally dragged away, the unrelenting grip of even the HCPD unable to stop the high that juno’s lips on his had caused, he leaned into the handcuffs rubbing his already sore wrists red and raw, hoping against hope that juno would fall asleep tracing the marks that were sure to appear as he’d spent so many nights doing himself.

* * *

juno was asleep, finally. for the first few nights, he refused to let his guard down in case one of miasma’s followers returned, no matter how many times peter offered to watch over him. it was another handful before he brought himself to sleep near peter, holding onto the fact that there was nothing between them.

each time miasma pulled juno away, leaving peter alone in the cell, he watched his skin turn angry and red with the woman’s mood. he pressed his fingers against them, sighing as he found no pain accompanying the pressure. juno was hungry and tired and for once, peter didn’t know how they could escape.

he didn’t know if juno finally inching closer to peter was him accepting their position, but he didn’t want to risk pushing the lady away. 

juno’s head was a comforting weight in his lap, legs outstretched in front of him. his eyes had long since closed, letting peter’s voice carry him away from their cell. he had asked for a story and peter wasn’t one to disappoint, not when it came to his soulmate and especially not  _ here _ . if juno wanted something he could give, he would. 

“uh huh. and what happens to the detective and the thief in the end?” juno’s eyes weren’t even open and peter could tell he wanted to roll his eyes at the man’s character choices.

“the two, which are, for the record, completely unrelated to anyone either of us may be familiar with, live happily ever after, of course.” juno snorted. “what?”

“‘ow’s that possible?” he asked, lack of sleeping bleeding into his words. “what, they play cat and mouse forever? one causing trouble and the other stuck with damage control?” 

“it’s not a game for either of them,” _ and certainly not for me _ , he wanted to add. “after everything people are capable of doing - we’re in a tomb built by  _ martians  _ right now, juno - is it really so strange that people could fight for one another simply because they’re in love?”

peter was sure that he’d gone too far, that juno would pull away from him and back to the other end of the cell, but the only sound that filled the room was that of juno’s steady breathing. peter looked down, a hand coming to trace along his softened jaw as though it was something of holy importance. to him, it was. 

he was not an idiot. a fool around juno steel, perhaps. but not an idiot. he knew that things would get worse in this tomb far below the surface before it got better, but he let his head thump back against the wall and wondered how, with all the poets in the galaxy, no one had ever captured a feeling as  _ right  _ as this one.

* * *

mag was right. all along, peter had been distracted. a fool. holding on to childish dreams of having someone love him. 

at first he told himself that juno had left for some air. despite peter’s grandiose tendencies, they had not chosen the most luxurious hotel room. it was hot there, stuffy. he’d just stepped outside for a break from that.

minutes turned into hours as the morning’s light flooded the open blinds and peter finally had to acknowledge that juno was gone. despite everything, peter was not enough. even for his own soulmate.

he wanted to bury his face into the covers and emerge a new man, one who had not given his name - his love - away to a lady who did not want it. a curse threatened to escape his lips as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. (see: the marks peter's wandering lips had left on his lover's neck, light bruises that juno had left on peter's hips before he realised that they had all night to make up for missed time, the still flushed tracks that nails against his skin had left) 

by the time peter was ready to check out, all traces of their night together had vanished. he wanted to scream. how did one go back to living alone after loving juno steel?

“sir? mr. steel?” peter looked up.  _ oh _ , he thought,  _ their cover story. newlyweds. _ that playful ease they had developed felt like something from a million years ago, not simply last night. he slid the room key across the desk. “i hope the room was satisfactory for you and your wi - ”

peter turned away. mag was right. of course he was right. why would a lady like juno steel stay?

* * *

after everything, it seemed, juno steel could not even give him the peace of living a scar-free life. he arrived in peter’s life (yes, yes, under dubious circumstances, sure), stuck around long enough for peter to fall in love and then left, leaving him inventing stories around each injury that showed up on his body.

grazed knees. a biking accident, perhaps? or juno was simply being clumsy; peter was not a particularly organised person himself, but juno couldn’t claim to be either. maybe he’d fallen over something in his office or his apartment.

hell, who was he kidding? this was juno steel they were talking about - beautiful, witty, never more than a foot from the most dangerous thing happening at any point in time.

see: surgical incisions around his eye that took longer than usual to fade. two marks on the inside of each wrist just before peter was hit with a sudden lightheadedness and the need to sit down. blaster fire grazing the side of his leg. that long gash across his stomach that almost, almost made peter break his promise not to check up on juno. not to find him again.

he didn’t need saving. he’d made his decision.

peter could track a whole history of the time juno and he had spent apart in those marks and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know which versions of reality was correct. 

wherever he was, peter was sure it was better than the life he could have offered him. it was like mag said: what could a man spending his life on the run offer, other than baggage?

* * *

what did it mean to be someone’s soulmate? was it that you loved someone through all the trials the galaxy sent your way? or that you always came back to one another even after it tried so hard to pull you apart? if so, peter thought, how could the lady in front of him be anything else?

seeing juno again was… it was horrible. it was perfect. it was everything peter had wanted from the moment juno’s footsteps had trailed out of the room and around the corner. he wanted to hate juno even if he knew he never truly had, even though he knew that he would never be anything other than madly in love with juno steel.

he tried convincing himself that that didn’t matter - he could love juno and refuse to make the same mistakes again (see: a broken hearted and a bruised ego). they were crewmates, nothing more. that was okay. soulmates could work together, soulmates could be friends.

soulmates could platonically note that yellow was a good colour on their partner. soulmates could step to the side and watch as the missing part of them flirted with another woman.

soulmates could - oh, christ. who was he kidding? they were never just going to be friends. at least juno had the good grace not to mention the indents of fingernails that were sure to have appeared on the inside of his palm as he was speaking with nova zolotovna.

with juno stood in front of him now, the name peter ransom buried somewhere behind them, he wondered if they ever could have been just friends. with juno, now so mature, baring himself to peter, flaws and all, can he really be expected to walk away again? haven’t the two of them done that dance enough by now?

juno was looking down at him now, having exhausted the speech he’d practised and peter realised that it was his turn to speak. he knew what mag would have told him to do. he never should have stepped foot on this ship to begin with, never should have done anything as absurd as teaming up with someone, as falling in love. but mag wasn’t here. he wasn’t here and juno  _ was _ .

“i can’t be your soulmate.”

juno’s face fell. the lady tried to hide it, but peter had spent so many nights in that hellscape deep underground studying the intricacies of his face and he knew what it looked like when juno was hurt.

“that’s… okay. i can respect that.” he took a deep breath. “we could still do friends, couldn’t we?”

“that isn’t what i meant, juno.” he stood up from the bed, turning away from juno. peter couldn’t do this looking at him. “i can’t be your soulmate. i don't know who your soulmate would be. i don't know who peter nureyev is. outside of the masks and the outfits, i don’t know who that man is anymore. i don’t know if i ever did."

juno was silent behind him until there was the press of his footsteps into the ground and he appeared in front of peter. he looked up at the taller man, eyes wide and just as beautiful as he’d been the first time peter saw him. he reached down and brought his own hands to peter’s and, slowly enough that he could have pulled away if he wanted to, pressed a kiss into peter’s hands, things so used to causing pain, and peter sent thanks to whatever gods were real that he didn't noticeably shiver at the feeling.

"then let's find out together."

* * *

it was warm out. that was still a luxury that peter still took notice of, even though it had been years since he’d spent a night out in the cold. warmer still was the body slung over his back, arms around his waist and a rounded chin poking at the point just below his shoulder, not quite tall enough to reach it. he took a hand off the pan in front of him to reach down to the hand that wasn’t his own. (see: the unusually pale skin that had formed beneath the ring on his finger)

“i thought i said you were banned from being in here by yourself?”

“oh, please. the house is still standing, isn’t it?”

the voice behind him let out a wary hum, as though peter had done anything to deserve this. well, he hadn’t done anything recently, at least. if you defined recently as the past week.

he spun around in the lady’s arms, looping his own over his shoulders. juno was as breathtaking as he always was. his now greying locs were tied back, a soft jumper hanging past his thighs. peter pulled him closer.

“besides, this was meant to be a surprise. why are you up so early, love?”

“i’m surprised there wasn’t any screaming or crying that woke me up earlier, i’ve gotten so used to it now.” peter decided not to mention that there was  _ both  _ of the above only an hour ago, but that he’d managed to deal with it.

“the joys of parenthood, hm?”

“no kidding.” juno leaned up, brushing a strand of peter’s hair out of the way so that he could kiss his husband unobstructed. and listen, if peter still got distracted each time juno pulled him in for a kiss… well, could anyone blame him? “sweetheart, what’s that smell?”

“oh, fuck!” peter turned around, pulling the pan he’d forgotten off the heat. he cursed again as a splash of oil made contact with his hand, turning it a bright red.

“are you alright?” juno asked, his voice had turned from smug and knowing to genuine concern as he pulled peter’s hand towards him. a similar mark must be forming on juno’s own skin now, peter thought. he hated the idea that he was the one to cause his lover more pain, but he was quickly distracted from the thought by juno’s attention on him. 

“i’m fine, i’m fine. nothing to panic over.” that didn’t stop juno from rubbing a finger over the mark. “juno, love, seriously. we both know i’ve had a lot worse than this.”

“not anymore. besides, i didn’t like it then either.”

“then you’ll have to keep me out of trouble, won’t you?”

as peter spoke, he was cut off by the sound of loud shouts coming from what had once been the spare room. 

“you go, you’re banned from the kitchen officially this time. i’ll take over.”

peter would have argued, but he knew there was no point on this front. as he walked away, tracing the point on his hand where juno’s had been just moments before, he found that he was okay with adding another scar to his collection if it meant getting to keep the life they’d built together.

**Author's Note:**

> the euphoria i felt not having to point out at the beginning that i was writing a character as nonbinary because juno being nonbinary is canon :')


End file.
